A Dance with the Devil
by pawniards
Summary: When releasing Mukuro from Vindice ten years in the future, the Vongola, specifically Hibari, gets much more than they bargained for.  RP Log


((This is a roleplay log from a year ago. My partner has since quit on me, but she gave me permission to post this as a fanfiction. It's not gonna be finished, but enjoy what we wrote.))

Life was quite different when suspended in a phosphorescent tank. One could never be quite sure if it was night or day. The temperature never was any hint, for being hundreds of feet below ground level means you're cut off from the sun in a cool damp place. The lighting was never any help either; they kept the lights dim all day round, and only on occasion would a guard pass through the rows of prisoners in their incubated tubes with a flashlight, that was the brightest light that Mukuro had a hint of since he was taken down to this level. After five years of being locked away, Mukuro's body began to wither away. His muscles slowly depleted, he got skinnier. His eyes sunk into his skull and his skin became deathly pale. After five years, his hair grew wild and unkempt, floating in the tank around him like a sheet of suspended silk. If anyone who knew him saw him, they would not hesitate to say he had become a shell of the man he once was. With his body becoming a waste, Mukuro was expanding his horizons. He was using Chrome's body more often, and with the absence of his spirit, the capsule he once used became more and more useless.

However, in this current situation, Mukuro did not reach out to Chrome, but rather to another person, the prefect that wished to fight him so much. He found that Hibari was asleep. So it must have been night over in Japan. It wasn't like he could tell. He was unconscious most of the day, and even when he was awake; it was always dark in Vindice. A sleeping skylark meant the anti illusionary guards that he placed on his mind would slack, granting Mukuro entry. The dream world that he resided in spread out into Hibari's blank dream, lighting up his dreamless sleep with a meadow full of blooming and budding wildflowers. A light breeze blew through, pushing at the flowers ever so gently. In a gazebo at the far end of the meadow sat Mukuro, clad in all white, a simple silk button up shirt and loose-fitting cotton pants. He was barefoot, and his long hair was flying free. Here in this dream world, he looked at peace. And now that the stage was set, he waited for Kyoya to join him.

Hibari Kyoya enjoyed sleeping, especially when there were no distractions to keep him from it. He usually found secluded areas to delve into slumber, though he was a light sleeper. Many already knew that waking a sleeping skylark would land them in a world of pain, but tonight he had returned home earlier than he would have in order to obtain a peaceful means of rest. Because home, to Hibari, always meant peace and quiet. Even his home was isolated, away from the hustle and bustle of Namimori, enough to where a visitor hadn't come by in years. It was close enough to town to where he didn't have long to arrive, but far enough away to ensure that he would not be bothered. He was always the most peaceful when he was sleeping, despite how light of a sleeper he actually was. Nightmares were out of the question; it was probable that even those were fearful of him, the carnivore. It was also rare for him to dream, since dreams meant there was less focus on the world around him - less ways to keep from waking up should there prove to be an intruder, as unlikely as that was. Tonight, however, his dreamless state was interrupted by an unfamiliar place.

A fake breeze picked up his silken strands of raven hair, causing them to dance around his eyes, neck and face, but putting emphasis on his distasteful stare. Ironically, he wore black, a loosely fitted yukata much like the one he wore occasionally while drinking tea. The flowers irritated him to a degree. Since meeting Mukuro, he had always found their beauty to be deceiving.

Speak of the Devil.  
>Almost as if he hadn't realized the gazebo was there, his slanted eyes sent out a pointed glare to the blunet sitting far away from him, so nonchalant, as if this kind of thing were normal. He stepped on every flower he possibly could in Mukuro's little conjured dream, and was dissatisfied with the lack of amount when he took his initial steps onto the platform. The bottom of his feet left stains of red and purple from the flowers he had crushed with them in his wake.<p>

Even in this dream world, Mukuro could not keep his form from flickering. At one point he was that sickly pale shell of himself, and at others, he was the healthy and thriving self that he wanted Kyoya to see, to want to fight. Upon seeing Kyoya enter this dream world, however, a playful smile danced its way onto the faces of both forms. "Oya, Kyoya. You don't like flowers?" He chuckled that signature chuckle and looked up from gazing at the meadow to look Hibari over. He had most certainly grown since the last time they had seen each other. And the young man's open yukata was giving him quite a nice view. He whistled, just as the wind whipped past his face, blowing his long hair out of his eyes and onto his shoulder. That same wind caught the sound. His whistle came out much quieter than it should have been.

Mukuro stood and made his way across the gazebo with the stride of a predator. His skin stretched and contracted over gliding muscles that he did not have. His feet barely touched the hard wood floors of the pavilion; he was as light as the wind he had conjured, as hard to catch. The man walked a full circle around Kyoya, looking him up and down with those mismatched eyes, surveying him. The fabric of that yukata was baggy, but Mukuro could still tell it hid layers of lean muscle and raw power, just what he respected about Kyoya. Only, these features had been chiseled and perfected with the end of Hibari's puberty. If he were looking for a tonfa to the face, he would have called it beautiful.

He brushed his bangs out of his face once more and met his gaze with Hibari's. He smirked and let out another chuckle. "You've grown, Kyoya. And I must say I approve. You must be quite the lady killer. And look, we're the same height now." His form flickered, once more showing the sickly form of his real body back in Vindice. He grimaced. This was not something he wanted Hibari Kyoya to see. His weakness was none of the skylark's business. With a bit of effort, he restored the graceful form that he always took in his illusions and gave his attention back to Kyoya. "It sure has been quite some time since we last met."

Sometimes, after he was close enough, Hibari wasn't sure what he was seeing. But, of course, this was a dream-or part of one. It was an illusion that Mukuro had set up in his unguarded mind that much was obvious to him now. If it weren't, he would have woken up from it already. Subconsciously dreaming of Rokudo Mukuro was not something he would continue to allow himself to do. But he kept seeing the illusion flicker, like a glitching game might, or a computer program. Only this was an image based on reality, not a simulation. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, calculating silently as the other man observed him and the changes he had gone through in the past five years. It was true that Hibari had never actually seen the mist user's real form, but he never imagined the slips that Mukuro was going through now. Weakening, perhaps? He could only begin to speculate. Either way, he was "standing" before his rival now, ever-so-slowly turning his head to follow the circling movements. It was amusing to see these slips now, but irritating as well, mostly because it meant that Mukuro was weakening. And, of course, he already understood where the true body of the other man was now; locked away, helpless besides his powerful illusions. But what now..?

For Mukuro to fall this way angered him. Only Hibari was allowed to cause such a thing. What did these herbivores things they were doing, locking away such power, when it was the skylark's purpose to destroy him personally? These weakened illusions wouldn't do. He wanted the real thing. Thus, he glared. "Don't speak nonsense to me, Rokudo Mukuro," he drolled, slate eyes staring holes into the illusion standing before him. Wasn't a dream illusion less complicated than a living one? If this prison was holding back Mukuro's true potential, and weakening it at that, then fighting the man this way would be a waste of time. "Time is killing you. It's pointless to bite you to death here." No, he wanted the strength Mukuro had as a living power, not... this. He continued to glare. Though he wouldn't be opposed to slapping tonfa into Mukuro's jaw, even if it were just a dream. "Don't look at me like I belong to you."

There was a clang as the tonfa was easily met with Mukuro's trident. The man smiled widely, his eyes burning and wild. This is what he wanted. A fight, a pleasure he could not indulge in while locked up in that god-awful cell. With his focus on his weapon, the illusion dropped, showing how badly Mukuro was treated. He had blotchy purple and yellow bruises from mistreatment and his bones stuck out. He was horribly malnourished, and yet he still fought like this.

"But Kyo-chan, you already belong to me."

He spun his trident and brought it down to his side, looking expectantly at Kyoya. The way things were going, he would not be getting a decent fight any time soon. Now that Kyoya had already seen him, he saw no reason to hide his weak form. The skylark would not want to face him this way to begin with. Mukuro knew Kyoya. He would not be bothered with those that were too weak to fight him. "Ku fu fu~. So you've found out what happens when you remain immobile in a tank for five straight years. I take it I've lost your respect now?" He wouldn't be surprised if he had. The background changed, and they stood in the dark, dank cavern that was Vindice's prison. Rows of phosphorescent tubes lit the large warehouse like room with a pale, eerie glow. Behind them, one tank in particular was noticeable out of all the rest.

Four guards surrounded it on each side, and unlike all of the other containment units, this one was bound and locked with thick metal chains, each link being about the size of the average man's head. There was a warning sign hung on one of the locks. 'Danger, water inside is highly acidic.' One of the guards hooked a bag of drugs to one of the tubes that led inside the tank, and the figure that floated in the solution slumped. He was barely recognizable, covered by a veil of floating blue hair and bound in so many chains that the form of his body could not be made out. But it was him, it was definitely Mukuro. "Now, before you go and think this is completely useless, I'd like to ask you a favor, Kyoya."

It was somewhat admirable of the weakened illusion of his top adversary to have been able to block his attack, though there hadn't been much motivation to it besides his general irritation of Mukuro's lack of usual prowess. And although his weapon didn't meet the intended target, it did successfully reveal the state of the mist guardian to him, so much so that it distracted him from the urge to fight-momentarily, of course. His anger did return when those words processed in his brain, and this time when he heightened his weapon, it pressed into the tender flesh of the other man's neck, along the bruises that had already formed there. "You are mistaken, herbivore. I will destroy you." Not here, though, no. As much as he would have never admitted it out loud, seeing Mukuro in this condition, even as only a dream-state illusion, was painful.

The skylark didn't falter when their scenery changed. He simply glanced around, taking his slate-colored eyes off the man in front of him, and pausing his breath when they fell upon Mukuro's tank prison. Even if he wasn't sure whether or not this was the real vision of the place, it still felt real, more real than the flickering, fading fake memory dream state that Mukuro had initially brought to him. Slowly did the man lower his tonfa, shifting his arm to settle it back into the long sleeve of his yukata, to have it seemingly disappear. Without giving even a second glance to the guards surrounding Mukuro's tank, he approached it, pausing when he had a good enough view of the tortured soul inside. For a while, he was silent. But eventually, he felt the need to speak. "You won't be ready to fight me if I free you from here. It will take you a long time to regain your strength." It was the facts, after all. Five plus years in a prison such as this could do that to someone. "Getting yourself caught in a place like this... Doesn't that make you weak to begin with?" Still, he continued to stare into the tank, slanted eyes closing a small fraction.

He didn't know how he had convinced Hibari to come and get him out of Vindice. But the fact was, he had. Something had happened between the two of them that night, something to make both of them realize that the way they had both once been had changed. So now, as the guards led Hibari, Chrome, and Tsunayoshi down the hallways of the first floor and into a rickety old elevator, it finally dawned upon them that this could be a horrible choice they were making. Upon reaching the deep level where Mukuro was stored, Chrome grew faint. Seeing the conditions that he was kept in made her weak. Tsunayoshi shivered, wishing he had allowed Gokudera to come down with him as the feisty storm guardian had insisted. The two kept as close to the center of the aisle as they could, keeping themselves away from the dangerous criminals in the tubes and the equally dangerous guards guiding them down the path.

When they reached Mukuro's tank, Chrome started sobbing uncontrollably. Seeing her master treated like this was more than enough to throw her over the edge. She pressed herself against the glass and started to cry. The guards looked disdainfully at Tsunayoshi, and he peeled the hysterical girl off of the tube. It was then that they started to drain the water from the tank. A loud alarm sounded as the fluid levels drained. Eventually, the guards had undone the chains and tubes around Mukuro's body. They picked him up out of the tank and threw him onto the floor, kicking his body over to their small group. Mukuro's uncovered eye snapped open in pain and filmed over in tears. His body started twitching uncontrollably. He was suffering from hypersensitivity.

"Get him an oxygen tank!" Chrome screamed. The guards threw that, too in their direction. Chrome set him up on the oxygen. As soon as he was breathing again, the spasms wracking Mukuro's body calmed. The tears made their way down his face, but were not replaced. The young decimo ordered a stretcher for his Mist Guardian. Mukuro was laid down gently by Chrome and Tsunayoshi, but the guards refused to touch him. With a bit of a fight, Tsuna managed to get them to get rid of the shackles and chains binding Mukuro, so he was free save for the straight jacket and tight pants he wore. He looked pitiful, and upon noticing Hibari was there, would not meet his eyes.

It had been an internal conflict for Hibari, but he finally realized that he couldn't keep the damn pineapple out of the back of his mind if he didn't release him. Those illusions would weaken until, maybe, the man couldn't even survive anymore. And considering that the guards at Vindice did not care for him properly, he doubted that with even weaker illusions, his real body was taking most of the toll. And if someone else caused Mukuro's downfall, he would regret it. But he also knew that if the guards of the Vindice were strong enough to capture so many strong criminals, he wouldn't be able to release Mukuro on his own. So, instead, he arrived in Tsuna's office at the Vongola mansion and, with the obvious threat of tonfa if Tsuna refused, finally leaving with the confirmation that he desired. They departed the next morning, with enough time for the Decimo to contact Chrome in order for the young mist guardian woman to assist in the release of her master. She obviously had been more aware of his weakening condition, as she seemed relieved the entire ride there-though Hibari didn't ride with the Decimo and his mist guardian, for even the two of them was crowding to him. Instead, he led in a car driven by Kusakabe.

When they arrived, he kept his distance between himself and the two others with him. The skylark took up the far rear of the group, several paces behind where Tsuna was already beginning to become worried, and Chrome was close to having her mental breakdown over Mukuro's condition. But unlike the others, he lingered closer to the tanks, staring in almost curiously at the criminals taking up the tanks. But these criminals held no interest to him. They were merely delinquents, as all herbivores were. And, at the moment, he was only interested in one particular herbivore, one on the verge of becoming a carnivore only because the younger male had been unable to officially beat him. That would end soon enough. When they finally came to Mukuro's tank, he froze. Thankfully Tsuna had already given up his attention to the sobbing woman, leaving him to be unquestioned. During the moment that they literally threw the illusionist onto the floor, he drew a tonfa from within his mafia jacket, the steel of its length glinting from the dimly flashing lights illuminating off Mukuro's prison.

"Cease acting like bothersome children or be bitten to death," he warned; obviously the guards didn't intimidate him a bit. They seemed to slightly ignore him, but once Mukuro had been treated with oxygen, his slate colored eyes turned down to the sickly man several feet away from him. When Tsunayoshi nor Chrome made a move, he did. Remaining here was useless if Mukuro was to be finally released. Hibari slipped his tonfa back into the loopholes inside his jacket and bent down to, firstly, lift the oxygen tank into one hand. Then, tucking it beneath his left arm, he moved to pull the soaked Mukuro into his arms bridal style. "We're leaving."

The man in Hibari's arms steadily became more conscious with each step they took. He became aware of footsteps echoing against the ancient stone floors, unrecognizable voices ringing out against the silence. Things that he hadn't experienced for himself in five years. Sound. Taste. Smell. The room around him was dank and smelt of mold. There was the very potent scent of cologne around him. And was that. . . cherry blossoms? His mouth was dry. That wasn't surprising. He hadn't actually received fluids through his mouth for five years. What was surprising was that it tasted like a sandbox. He became more and more aware as time went on. He could start feeling tingles in the tips of his fingers and toes. But that was about it. He knew he wouldn't be able to open his eyes, much less speak. He didn't have the strength. But he still wanted to know who was carrying him down the hall, who was this source of warmth?

Chrome turned to Hibari and noticed the tips of Mukuro's fingers twitching. She smiled. "Mukuro-sama. . ." At least he could move. Of course, it was Mukuro they were thinking of. If it was anyone else, they probably would never be able to move again. The fact that he was recovering this fast reassured her. Tsunayoshi seemed to notice this as well. He didn't know if it renewed his faith in the pineapple haired man or if it made him scared of what would happen after he got better. For now, he considered it a good thing. Then, he did something that none of them would expect. Mukuro curled up towards Hibari, snuggling him almost.

For the most part, Hibari was keenly ignoring the others around him, save for the semi-unconscious man he held in his arms. And though he didn't set his gaze upon Mukuro, he was very aware of every movement, every breath, and every slight change that he endured as they once again entered the rickety elevator that would lead them to the illusionist's salvation. Tsunayoshi and Chrome followed, the latter sticking as close to Hibari and the man he held as she possibly could without invading the skylark's personal space. The guards followed them to the elevator but did not return with them to the main floor, instead watching them from behind heavily hooded faces. He disregarded them and waited until they arrived at the main floor. As he didn't want to leave Mukuro in the care of the uncertain Vongola boss-nor did he want to even move further towards their vehicle-Hibari ignored the questions from the female mist guardian and, after finding it somewhat easier that Mukuro cuddled against his chest, slipped into the back of the car Kusakabe was sitting behind the wheel of. There wasn't much room on the stretched out back seat, so once the door was shut, he had to maneuver the blunet halfway on his lap with the oxygen tank resting between his knees on the floor.

"Drive," Hibari said, sounding crisp, and he didn't even look to see if the Vongola Decimo or Chrome were ready to order their movement. The ebony made it look casual while he finally glanced down at the man, taking in his stricken, sickly form and scowling in distaste from knowing that his imprisonment caused such a thing.

"Yes, Kyo-san." With Hibari's command, Kusakabe put the pedal to the metal. He wanted as much distance between himself and that prison as he could possibly get, and he wanted it fast. Not only did the place itself give him the creeps, as it looked like an old abandoned mine on the outside, it was heavily guarded, and the landscape was decorated by the graves of executed prisoners, but he was also afraid that the guards would change their minds and come after the recently freed pineapple head. Gokudera, the driver of the other car, had the same thoughts, and soon the small caravan was on its way to a high end hotel in Naples, where they would stay the night to gather their bearings. It was within Vongola territory, so obtaining medical treatment for Mukuro would be easy with no questions asked.

Of course, the star of the show still did not know who he was with. He could feel himself be tenderly lifted to have his head laid in someone's lap. It was warm and relaxing, and although the world outside was much colder than he remembered it, he was reassured in the familiar warmth and touch of this person. When Kyoya's deep voice echoed out through the small cabin of the car, he couldn't help but smirk. And what was more surprising to him was that he actually could smirk, as he hadn't yet regained feeling in his lips yet. But here he was, with that stupid, smug grin on his face. His first way of communicating with his rescuer. So, without much to keep him entertained except the silence in the cabin and the dull hum of the car's engine, the heavily sedated man allowed the drugs to take effect. He curled up closer to Hibari's warmth and allowed himself to be lulled to sleep.

When Mukuro awoke next, he would have found himself in an unfamiliar place.

Then again, so was Hibari. He would have preferred to have returned home, or attended some type of assignment given to him via Vongola boss, but that hadn't been the case. Instead, he had been told to wait by the same Decimo, a request that, given the circumstances, he couldn't refuse. If this whole thing from Mukuro had been a ruse simply too get himself freed for the purpose of destroying the mafia and burning the world to the ground, Tsunayoshi needed him there. And with that in mind, Hibari chose to stay. Mukuro was far too weak to withstand a plane ride back to the mansion. That was a given. The hotel they stayed in was indeed on Vongola territory, and the topmost floor was off limits to the general public, reserved for Vongola members and their guardians only. Unfortunately, the suites were so large that there were only four. Chrome, as a woman, got a room to herself, and although Gokudera offered to share a room with Decimo, the two of them received their own rooms merely because Hibari had stated he would "watch the recovering herbivore".

Not in a literal sense, actually, because while Mukuro rested-donned with the proper medical equipment-in one of the suite's beds, Hibari was settled on the rail of the porch, watching the quiet bustle of the movement several stories below in the city. He wasn't surprised when a familiar chirp brought the skylark to glance up, watching a small yellow canary dive and make a temporary perch on top of his head. Hibari, of course, didn't mind. The little creature flapped its wings repeatedly, uttering "Hibari, Hibari!" until it noticed that the porch doors were open, and took up into flight due to the curious figure on the bed.

It had been three nights since they arrived there. Hibird swooped down until its tiny feet caught in Mukuro's hair and it was able to settle properly and brood itself. Since the first night they brought Mukuro here, they were able to give the sickly man a proper set of clothing as well. For the moment, a low breeze settled in, and Hibird tucked its neck against its body so it could doze off.

Now in most circumstances, it would have been a good thing for Tsunayoshi to room alone. However, that wouldn't happen anytime soon. Both he and Gokudera ended up sharing a room, and their voices carried through the whole floor for all of the three nights that they had been there. Mukuro went through stages of being conscious and unconscious, as the pain medications he were on didn't quite keep him sedated all the time. However, at this current moment, his eyes decided to flutter open. A pale and bony hand came to shield the sensitive organs from the flow of light that he was not used to. A voice that had not been used in five years groaned. It was throaty and scratchy, an obvious sign of its underuse. Despite all of the cords and tubes hooked up to him, Mukuro pushed himself up in bed, disturbing poor Hibird, who circled around his face before making himself at home once again in the bluenet's tangled locks. Despite the screaming protests his muscles were giving him, he pulled the covers off of his body to find that the bruises were slowly fading, his skin gaining more color.

He slid out of the bed with a creak and the snapping of several tubes, not that he cared. He stood on shaky legs, clutching the wall next to him in one hand and the side of the bed in the other, and made his way to the window, the little cart that held his IV drip and oxygen tank following behind him. Removing the bandage that covered his left eye and the tubes that ran up his nose that supplied him oxygen, he took a great breath. Sweet fresh air. His eyes were still quite sensitive to the light around him, although the lamps in the room had been dimmed in preperation for whoever he was sharing this room with to sleep. His lungs stung with the intake of something other than pure oxygen, as he should have been weaned off of it instead of forcing himself to quit cold turkey, but this was Mukuro we were talking about.

He scanned the room, looking for any sign of who he would be sharing this room with. It was clean, and personal items were sparse, something any normal person would have assumed would mean any person could be there. But a soft breeze from the open door to the balcony carried a scent of the cologne that he had smelled on the day of his release.

With both the inviting scent of his rescuer and the thought of fresh air for the first time in years, Mukuro shakily made his way over to the door. He was loud and unceremonious, stumbling quite a few times, but he made it nonetheless, and upon seeing Kyoya standing there, he stopped and chuckled, although his voice was throaty and hoarse.  
>"Well, look who it is."<p>

This was something the prefect did often; watch things from afar, enjoying the quiet noises that were so similar to those back in Namimori. Even if it didn't compare to anything like his hometown, there was still a simple bliss that could be found even in the streets of Italy. He took long, relaxing breaths, often closing his eyes and picturing himself back at the Namimori Shine-or underneath it, rather. There, he could don a normal yukata and drink tea with Kusakabe at his whim, meditating on the day and collecting reports of local crime. Crime, of course, that he would quickly handle. He took his influence over Namimori seriously, even if his actual job was an agent under Tsunayoshi Sawada. Not that he actually DID what Tsuna told him to, of course, but rather listened to suggestions, and did things if he wanted to or not.

For the most part, he was able to tune out the carried voices from the other herbivores. At one point he had seen Tsuna momentarily stumble out onto the porch, and he didn't think anything of it when he finally turned away, unamused, while slender armed pulled the Decimo back in. Three days of nothing, and Kyoya was becoming fairly agitated with the lack of progress. He did notice, however, when he heard particularly noticeable noises coming from behind him, and judging by their irregularity, knew it wasn't much of a threat. Hibird had finally been able to roost properly, though he had often beaten his tiny wings in protest to Mukuro's unstable movements. However, when Hibari lifted his hand, propping up a single finger further than the rest, the obedient feathered creature flew from the bluenet's head to perch there.

But Mukuro did manage to speak, though his voice did sound less like its usual luster, causing the edges of the skylark's lips to tip up in a very slight sadistic smirk. "Wao. It took you less time to stand on your own after all." Slate colored eyes watched the dancing lights of the city, inhaling every time a breeze blew in his direction. "You're lucky I haven't bitten you to death already." That would have been unlike Hibari. He only killed those who stood and faced him, not while their back was turned.

Slowly and surely, Mukuro made his way out to the balcony next to Hibari, leaning onto the old iron railing with a sigh. He was quiet for a few moments, be it from exhaustion or from lack of something to say, he did not know. This wind, this real wind, blew at his face, lifting up his long blue tresses and holding them in the air for a few seconds before it died down. They fell gracefully back to his shoulders. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips as the wind hit him. A smile graced his face. "You know me better than that, Hibari Kyoya." He craned his neck ever so slightly so he locked eyes with the raven. The opposite's eyes held passion that he lacked these days. The expression on the bluenet's face was broken, one that he himself would pity if he hadn't been through what he was freed from just a few days ago. He chuckled and turned out to face the skyline of the city before him. A landscape so familiar, just like all the other cities he had been in, yet so different. The sky, the temperature, all things he could remember of different climates, but one thing always kept city life the same; the lights. It was the one thing about human civilization that he admired. No matter where you were, the lights of a city made you feel welcome, at home, this was true even for the most vile of people like him.

His fingers curled around the wrought iron railing, tracing the intricate designs welded there hundreds of years ago, back when this ancient building was constructed. Keeping his eyes off of Hibari, he spoke. "I've aged so much more than you could possibly imagine in that place. But I've got to say. While I was there, waiting for salvation, there was one thing above all else that I missed. I'm sure you could guess what that is, Kyoya."

He sighed, leaning his face into the wind once more before turning and wobbling his way back into the room. He stumbled again. This time, he fell to his knees with a curse about how weak his body was, before pushing himself up and pushing himself forward, straight towards that bed he had just left. He sat down. You could almost hear his muscles groan in relief. And all of a sudden, the hypersensitivity kicked in. The pain medication had completely worn off. He fell onto the bed gasping for air and twitching in pain. His body shook in large and frequent spasms. His eyes dilated in pain. His hands clenched into fists, his toes curled.  
>And then, he screamed.<p>

Throughout the years, Hibari had heard this voice. Since he had pursued the blunet over beating students from Namimori to the present day, had had not been without that voice, or those mismatched eyes. It was a visual and mental reminder of an unfinished battle. And now that the man was recovering, well, he could figure out once and for all which prowess was stronger. But Mukuro was always so playful with him.. It was irritating. Even in the other's current state, he was implying things that sounded too friendly. Since when had it gotten like this? Kyoya had never done anything to indicate they were anything other than rivals. So, of course, he glared when the illusionist bent his head at an angle to meet his gaze. And he knew that, presently, Mukuro wasn't strong enough to cast illusions, but it didn't stop him from scrunching his eyes and giving more attention than he should have at his crimson eye. Lightly twitching the finger his yellow companion rested on, Hibird took the hint and flew off, landing once more on the top of Mukuro's head-an annoying perch, Hibari realized, because Hibird was becoming too familiar with Mukuro than the prefect would have liked. "I don't familiarize myself with herbivores," he reminded the other man pointedly.

It was unlike himself to actually listen to what someone had to say in depth, but he couldn't keep Mukuro's voice from nearly completely blocking out all other sounds. The only time he turned his own head was in slight curiosity-though the expression didn't show much on his face, but rather in the glow of emotion in his slate colored eyes-to the bluenet's words as he slowly stumbled back into the hotel room. In all honesty, he couldn't even begin to fathom what it had been that Mukuro missed. The actual breeze? Night, or maybe the stars? Why did it matter to him, anyway? It shouldn't. All that mattered was Mukuro getting back into his fit condition so that Hibari could bite him to death. He turned his head back to continue watching the late night activity of the city.

His attention didn't last long. The silence had been broken by a noise that made the hairs on Hibari's arms stand up. Quickly pushing away from the railing, he briskly stepped back into the carpeted room, pupils narrowing at the sight of Mukuro writhing on the bed in agony of his body's affliction. Kyoya kept his wits about him in times like these, so as soon as he noticed the IV stand was close to the porch door, he grabbed it and stalked over, replacing it against the tag on the inside of Mukuro's elbow. Hibird was flapping his wings frantically, unable to find a place to rest while Hibari also snatched the oxygen mask from the floor and cupped it over the bluenet's mouth, muffling his noises.

The pain was excruciating. It felt like both his heart and lungs were going to explode. His blood was boiling, his skull throbbing. Tears brimmed up on the lining of Mukuro's eyes and spilled over. Even after the IV was inserted by Hibari, Mukuro continued to sob and to breathe heavily, eyes wide. He gripped at his throat, and then suddenly turned green. He was going to be sick. Going incredibly fast for a man in his level of pain, Mukuro grabbed hold of the IV stand and dashed for the bathroom. How he even knew where it was was a mystery in itself. The door slammed behind him. He pulled the oxygen mask up over his nose and emptied the only contents of his stomach into the porcelain basin before him.

The majority of it was red.

And then he collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily, between every few breaths, a small moan escaped. The man held his stomach. Tears flowing freely now. Sobs wracked his body once more. This was no longer Mukuro. This was a shell of the man he once was. And as he thought this, he became sick again. Mustering as much strength as he could, he reached up and pulled the handle to flush away the evidence of just what was going on inside his body. And with one last sob, he collapsed and blacked out on the bathroom floor.

The skylark wasn't exactly sure how he felt. It may have been borderline worry, but then again, he didn't _worry_ about anything. He simply accepted things as they happened and justified them with his own actions as he saw fit. Mukuro's weakness was something that was not very easily accepted, as the blunet was supposed to be _recovering_. Then again, it was the illusionist's own fault for getting up so suddenly. He had gripped Mukuro's chin while he steadied the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, trying to keep the other male steady despite how the pain may have caused him to want to struggle. Of course, Hibari was no doctor, but he at least knew the basics. Struggling against the pain would only make it worse.

Scowling when the mist user suddenly jerked up into a sitting position and headed for the bathroom door on the other side of the room, Kyoya hesitated only a few minutes before getting annoyed. Once he heard the toilet flush, he briskly crossed the room and-finding that it was locked-kicked it open. Tsuna could pay for the damaged door later. Noticing the blunet passed out on the floor, he sighed halfway, kneeling and, in observance, touched a hand to the top of Mukuro's head. He knew that he couldn't just leave the man lying there, so he scooped Mukuro up much like he had when they released him and carried him back into the room to deposit carefully onto the bed. Silencing Hibird with a sharp glance, he replaced the IV to Mukuro's bedside and settled the oxygen mask over his mouth. After making sure the IV was pumping enough medication into the man's system, he sat idly on the edge of the bed, his arms crossed, watching Hibird nuzzle up to Mukuro's neck. "Hibird, we don't fraternize with herbivores."

A person could always say they did not know what they did whilst sleeping. The same could be said for Rokudo Mukuro. When asleep, he let down all barriers. Down went the playful and mysterious personality that he usually upholded. While sleeping, Mukuro was like a child again, insecure, only seeking safety, comfort, and warmth. And when a certain slate-eyed man picked him up, that's exactly what he felt. Warmth. Instinctively, he curled towards it, seeking its source. Once safely on the bed, he allowed himself to curl up even further, bringing himself into a tight ball. One arm squeezed the pillow at his side; another went up to cup Hibird closer to his core.

The expression on his face was peaceful, free from the stress and pain that recent events had brought him. It was a temporary calm, brought by the artificial sleep and pain relief the drugs caused. Slowly, in the minutes leading from his pain attack, the fast and frantic rising and falling of his chest slowed, his breathing relaxed. His muscles, once tensed in pain, slacked. It was times like these that one could never really picture the blunet being who he really was, a ruthless criminal, a horrible murderer, a man who had ended up in the highest security prison that the current world ever knew. Times like these, one came to doubt that he had even done the things to end himself up there in the first place. In sleep, Mukuro did not look like he murdered an entire mafia family as a child. He did not look like the man that attempted to take over Sawada Tsunayoshi, and in extent, the world.  
>In sleep, he was at peace.<p>

The prefect was inwardly thankful when Mukuro's body and features visibly relaxed. He couldn't exactly express the relief that was, so he didn't. Instead, he glared once more at Hibird, who began to puff out his feathers while he snuggled against the warming skin of Mukuro's neck. It wasn't that Kyoya was jealous, but Hibird mirrored his own internal emotions, and to see the canary so friendly with the illusionist irritated him. Eventually, he pushed away from the bed. Today, he'd had enough. He wanted sleep of his own. So after briefly preparing for slumber-brushing his teeth and showering, etc.-he all but fell into the bed parallel to where Mukuro lay and didn't even bother to pull the covers up for the night. There was no need to. He was warm enough.

Three more long days slowly passed. Hibari was becoming impatient, wanting to return to at least the Vongola mansion before he lost his wits and went on his own. Mukuro's health was getting better, but it wasn't the best. He would often have fits of sickness when he wasn't on his pain medication, and Kyoya was starting to take to tonfa threats if he didn't remain in bed, or at least connected to his IV when he tried to stand. Mostly, he tried to keep to himself. It was hard when you shared a room with an overly friendly mist illusionist. He was on the borderline of threatening Mukuro with tonfa even if the man were caring for himself properly. But this was what happened when you were cooped up with someone in a room for six days.

It came time for them to return from Italy.

Mukuro's health had returned to a point where he could safely fly on a plane without risking airsickness or collapsing lungs from the high air pressure. Inwardly, and outwardly in Hibari's case, everyone was happy to be going home. Their stay in Italy had been decent. The hotel was well filled out, the scenery around them was beautiful, and the weather couldn't have been better, but they missed the familiar rolling green hills and suburbs of Namimori. They had a bit of trouble getting to the airport, as no one really wanted to ride with the illusionist who was prone to bouts of sickness these days. As much as Chrome wanted to be with her master as much as she could, it was one again decided that Hibari would be best fit to take care of the sickly blunet.

The car ride was awkward, in a small, indiscreet black Volvo driven by Kusakabe. Mukuro had attempted to engage in conversation to make the three hour drive to the airport less of a hassle, but both Kusakabe's and Hibari's distrust of him caused him to quiet after about half an hour of trying. And so he resigned to his seat by the window, watching with longing as they passed small farms and vineyards.

The landscape slowly changed to something more urban as they neared the city that held the airport. Small, winding roads were replaced by four lane freeways and tunnels. The air grew darker with the industrial pollution that lingered around the city. The rolling hills leveled out into a flat landscape, having been leveled down so the city's sprawling suburbs could be built. Skyscrapers poked up on the horizon, a visible contrast to the endless blue sky. Within a few minutes, they grew closer, and closer. And Mukuro soon realized that he would be leaving his home country for quite some time. He chuckled. It was not as if he had lived here for all six of his lives. He was always eager to see the world. No need to be empathetic. And so, when they pulled up to the curb at the airport, did Mukuro struggle rather eagerly out of the car.


End file.
